


Disobedience

by hedgehog_in_221B



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Discipline, F/M, Jealous Thranduil, Jealousy, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2015-09-03
Packaged: 2018-04-18 19:42:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4718171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hedgehog_in_221B/pseuds/hedgehog_in_221B
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After going down to the dungeons against his word, Thranduil disciplines the reader.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disobedience

   “I forbid you to go,” he said, his voice as authoritative as ever. You held your firm posture, unwavering in front of him.

   “I'm going down whether you want me to or not. You may be my king, but you do not own me,” you said. You saw a flicker of amusement behind his silver eyes and regretted your last statement. Regardless of what you mouth seemed to think, you did belong to him in some way. “I will return shortly after speaking with the dwarf,” you said, eyeing him before turning on your heel. A sharp glint of jealousy flashed behind his eyes.

   “Do not expect me to be in a good mood when you return,” Thranduil said. You looked back over your shoulder and saw how irritated this whole situation had made him. You resisted the urge to smirk and reveled internally in the fact that you'd gotten under his skin so easily.

   “Is that a threat?” you asked coyly. He gave you a look that signified there would be hell to pay when you returned. It made your stomach flutter in the most satisfying of ways and off you went to the deepest caverns of the Mirkwood dungeons. Deep underground was where he was kept, the ringleader of that gaggle of blundering dwarves. You didn't care much for their race, but this one seemed to possess a certain character that had you intrigued. When he had first been brought into the throne room, you'd been most interested in him and why he was here. Naturally, he'd said nothing of his doings in the forest and after he was shuffled off to the dark recesses of the dungeons, the rest of his posse was brought forth and thrown into the dungeons as well. He was a stubborn thing, he was. You passed several guards along the way, but they did not stop you or inquire as to why you were venturing so far underground. Eventually, you found his cell and there he was, sitting inside glaring at the bars. “Hello,” you said, peering through the bars in the dim light. He said nothing. In fact, he didn't even seem to acknowledge your presence. How rude. “You're Thorin Oakenshield, correct? I'm Y/N,” you said, trying to be pleasant. You would have offered him your hand as a sign of friendship, but he looked like he'd bite it off if you dared. Again, he didn't move. You sighed heavily. “You're quite talkative today,” you said sarcastically. After another moment of silence, you gave up. “Very well. Enjoy your solitude,” you replied in an uninterested tone before departing. So much for that interesting character. As you ascended the many stairs that lead back to the main level of the Elvenking's halls, you remembered what Thranduil had said as you'd left. Your lips formed into a sly smile and the butterflies returned as you eagerly bounded up the stairs. When you entered the throne room, he was gracefully draped over his throne, his leg crossed over his knee and swinging ever so gently as he tapped his finger to his cheek as if in thought. As soon as you entered, his eyes shot open and stared at you intently, a darkness in his gaze. It gave you chills and you stepped farther into the room, your eyes never leaving his. With a wave of his hand, Thranduil sent the few guards that were stationed by the entrance away. They shuffled off, their armor clinking off into the distance. When you heard it no more, he beckoned you closer.

   “Come,” he said and you obeyed, ascending the stairs to his throne. You'd done this many times before, but it never seemed to grow old. The same excitement and anticipation was always there, filling your veins with their sweet high. When you were before him, he looked you up and down, his gaze somewhat predatory. You shivered and shut your eyes a moment, reining yourself back in. When you opened them, his silver eyes were staring back at you. That same amusement from before was back and you felt those butterflies return to your stomach. Thranduil patted his lap and without a second thought, you laid across it, your abdomen pressed against his thighs. His left hand came to wrap around your waist and he pulled you closer to him while his other hand rested on your lower back. “Do you know why you're here?” he asked. You nodded. He swatted your backside lightly within the blink of an eye.

   “Yes,” you responded quickly, having forgotten to respond verbally. You turned your head to peer at him over your shoulder and saw that he was looking right at you.

   “And why is that?” he asked, his hand moving back to where it had been previously.

   “I disobeyed you.”

   “That's right. And what happens when you disobey me?”

   “I get punished.”

   “Yes. Good girl,” he said, rubbing your lower back. “Are you ready?” he asked.

   “Yes,” you said, looking straight forward and grabbing onto the arm of his throne. The butterflies in your stomach were going crazy and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest. As soon as you felt his hand leave your back, it came down on your backside hard a split second later. You gasped audibly, the initial sting always taking you by surprise. He rubbed where he'd hit before bringing his hand down again in another area. Thranduil didn't speak as he did this, though you certainly made a bit of noise. Your little gasps soon turned to small moans as the smacks and swats became more pleasurable. Every time you were disciplined like this you became a wretched, hot mess after the affair and he knew this. It was this incentive that made you want to go against his word more often. His hand came down again especially nicely and you moaned quietly, biting your lip and raising your hips as the sensation traveled to your groin. A few more swats followed and you could hardly stand it. You swayed your hips from side to side and lightly ground your crotch against his lap.

   “Hold still,” he commanded, the arm around your waist tightening. That was easier said than done. It took as much willpower as you could muster to keep from grinding against him. You desperately needed friction. Again, Thranduil's hand came down swift and sharp, earning more whorish moans and sighs from your mouth. You tried to keep quiet but it was really no use. After one final swat, he rubbed your bottom to help numb the pain. Even through your gown he could feel the heat radiating off of your cheeks. You were certain to be red as a tomato. He released his hold on you and without being told, you got up and straddled him, wrapping your arms about his neck and grinding yourself on him, your lips pressed to his ear.

   “Take me now. I want you to have your way with me,” you said lowly, your mouth moving from his ear to his neck, kissing and sucking a path down to the collar of his tunic. He chuckled and grabbed a hold of your hips, stilling your motions.

   “No,” he said as you raised your head to look at him.

   “Why not?” you asked, a slight pout on your face.

   “This is part of your punishment,” Thranduil replied, sliding you off of him and standing, adjusting his somewhat wrinkled tunic.

   “That's not fair!” you said, grabbing ahold of his arm.

   “I do not reward disobedience,” he said, removing your hand. “Perhaps next time you will think better of defying me.” And with that, he began to descend the stairs of his throne, a small, almost undetectable, smirk on his face. How cruel he could be when jealousy overtook him.


End file.
